Not What It Looks Like
by Serena Bancroft
Summary: Jess gets caught up in a media whirlwind in the investigation of Pauline Rayburn's death. A certain co-worker provides unexpected support when she needs it. Part of 'Warmness on the Soul'.


**Title:** Not What It Looks Like

**Summary: **Jess gets caught up in a media whirlwind in the investigation of Pauline Rayburn's death. A certain co-worker provides unexpected support when she needs it.**  
><strong>

**Series: **Warmness on the Soul**  
><strong>

**A/N:** I have no original excuses about why this one is late...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI:NY. Never have, never will.

"Wow," she murmured in awe at the soaring building before her. There was nothing remarkable about this building, aside from the fact that half of it was gone, reduced to rubble by the giant wrecking ball that stood still and silent across the street.

Angell had just finished up a few precursory interviews and still had yet to see the body. She had been told it was a mummified corpse, and she was not particularly looking forward to visiting said crime scene with a mummy hanging around.

After entering a 'safe' entrance, an officer guided her up a 'safe', but rickety staircase. She found herself wondering if it was structurally sound- as every so often boards and rubble would fall around them. She found herself sincerely doubting it was.

She arrived at the room where their victim was apparently located. She mentally prepared herself as she stepped through the door. And as soon as she did, Angell glanced at the body before looking away almost directly following. Extended eye contact with a dead body wasn't strictly necessary.

Detective Taylor was taking photos when the detective arrived. Without looking up, he greeted her, "Hello, Detective Angell."

"Good morning, Detective Taylor," she said, copying his tone. Angell scanned the room, her eyes not falling on the centerpiece which Mac was so focused on. One entire wall was missing thanks to the demolition- she felt overwhelming sympathy for the CSIs' whose job would be to find the rest of the crime scene.

"Do you have any new information?"

She glanced down at what she'd collected so far, citing the contents, **"We believe it's Pauline Rayburn. Clothing fits the description of what she was last wearing before she went missing over three weeks ago."**

For the first time, Angell stared intently at the body. It was gruesome to say the least- the dried flesh that clung to the bones like opaque saran wrap, the skeletal structure showing through, the small holes in the flesh that gave subtle glances at the dried out organs contained- just barely- by the dried out dermis. She took a few breaths to try to calm her suddenly queasy stomach.

**"You okay?"** Mac asked.

**"This is my first mummy,"** she admitted, almost sheepishly, then added softly, **"Dehydrated flesh takes some getting used to."**

He nodded slightly before crouching down, Angell following. She automatically wanted to recoil from the dehydrated body, but the detective forced herself to be a professional and deal with it like a big girl. **"There's no evidence that tells us how she got here, or how long her body has been in the building."**

Mac reached down, picking up a small silver ring off the floor. She recognized the band as a Claddaugh ring, and a fact popped into her head. **"Her husband wears a matching Claddaugh wedding band."**

**"Lets not share this information with the press just yet. I don't want this crime scene turning into a backdrop for the evening news,"** he said, before adding,** "Until we officially ID the vic, everything is unofficial."**

**"Should I notify Councilman Rayburn? He's still our primary suspect in connection to his wife's disappearance."**

**"Just follow proper procedure,"** he answered. She stood up. **"Who found her?"**

**"Uh, wrecking ball operator saw what he thought was a body flying across the room."**

**"No one checked the building before they started demolition?"**

**"The construction foreman was told that the structure was clear and ready to be torn down. Rest of the building's been empty and has been for the past few weeks."**

**"You know what was on that wall?"** he asked, gesturing to the gaping hole in the room.

**"What do you mean?"**

**"Any... item, color, distinctive markings that could make it easy to find?" **He'd meandered his was around wreckage to the hole in the side of the building. **"Because somewhere down there in all that mess is part of our crime scene." **Angell winced again, thinking of the poor CSIs who would be stuck with weeding through that rubble from half a building.

"Says the woman who is happy she's not a lab rat, I need to go have a chat with Mr. Rayburn."

"I need to call Adam down here to finish processing the scene. Let me know if you get anything."

**. . . . . . . . . .**

She sat dejected at her desk, head in her hands. Councilman Rayburn had made her quiver in the worst way possible. His blase attitude toward his wife's death made her feel like slugging him- and also made her want to prove his guilt that much more.

Then the phone rang again. Muttering curses even a sailor would've blushed at, she answered, trying to not sound horrendously annoyed. Predictably, the person on the other line was someone from the press, asking about leads in Pauline Rayburn's death. She gave the curt, usual reply about not discussing ongoing investigations.

She didn't notice Flack sit down across from her at his desk. Not paying attention to what she said or who she was saying it to, she muttered, "I swear to God, I'm about to go on a shooting rampage next time my phone rings." Normally, she wouldn't say things like that (she'd seen the aftermaths of those things...) but she was running on very little sleep and the calls were testing her patience. Coffee was barely keeping her running.

"Not exactly something you want to hear coming from an NYPD detective." She lifted her head to see Flack's face. Expecting a smirk, she was a little thrown when she saw a look of concern. "What's up?"

"It's the Rayburn case," she said, exasperated. Tired as she was, she wasn't paying attention to who she was using as her sound-board. Don Flack was still halfway between her Avoid list and Acquaintance list. She wasn't sure if she could work with the man professionally, though she hoped for it. Maybe this was a start.

"Press driving you nuts?"

"You have no idea."

He chuckled, "I think I do. Tell you what, tell 'em to call me instead of you. And I might be willing to answer your phones."

Her eyebrows peaked, "Seriously?"

He gestured to a file tray on her desk that was piling up with manila folders, most marked with the symbol of an active investigation. "Your case load's piling up. I figure I could free you up a little bit." There was a pause before he added, "And, I would like to protect the citizens of New York City from a possible insane gunwoman." When her mouth dropped open indignantly, he winked playfully, "It's a limited time offer."

In her tired state, she didn't question his motives. She was a lot more alert now than she had been, possibly because of her present company. Angell decided she could deal with it later if it was anything less than platonic and professional. "Okay..." she sounded slightly reluctant.

"Don't trust me, Detective?"

She didn't call him on the pet name. "You know, any other day I could come up with a decent response, but this case is driving me into the ground. That, and the fact that I nearly got shot in the head today."

"What?"

"Sal Bovado felt like it was a good idea to rig his doorway with a tripwire hooked up to a shotgun. Good thing Mac spotted it, or my brains would be all over his apartment wall."

She saw a shiver go through him, "Not funny, Angell."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Her smirk took any sass out of the response.

He leaned back in his chair, going for a different topic, "Got anything to nail the Councilman yet?"

She sighed, finally sitting up and leaning on her elbows. "Nope. Peyton said Pauline Rayburn died of natural causes."

"This is Peyton we're talking about right? Not one of the new ME students?"

"Yeah. Peyton performed the autopsy herself. Said it was a heart attack." Flack's look was mirrored what she was feeling. "I know. She was so young. Mac's asking Peyton to take another look once they find some more evidence."

There was a few minutes of silence before Flack said, "That'll be one hell of a case to prosecute."

"The DA's really gunning for an arrest. Nearly arrested Rayburn on Sal Bovado's word alone."

Don murmured something that sounded like, "Idiot," beneath his breath. _That's what I thought,_ Jessica mused.

"I'm really hoping to get him on murder 1, because you'll know they'll argue it down to at least murder 2."

"Good lawyer could probably get it down to manslaughter," he added.

"I'm honestly just hoping Mac'll build me an airtight case. Then the perps usually try to make all sorts of deals with no ground to stand on. It's fun to watch them flounder a bit."

Flack chuckled lightly. "He usually does."

It was then that Angell's cell phone rang- caller ID said it was Mac. "I gotta take this, can you...?" she asked, gesturing towards her desk phone, which had begun to ring. He nodded without a word.

"Hey Mac," Angell said, picking up. She quickly mouthed, 'You're a lifesaver,' to Don.

He mouthed back, 'You owe me,' before Angell registered that Mac was talking to her.

"Peyton found the real cause of death," he said, explaining that Peyton found the fracture in Pauline Rayburn's jaw that indicated her husband had struck her, which led to the heart attack. She thanked Mac and hung up, returning to her desk to retrieve her piece from the drawer.

"What's up?" Flack asked, hanging up Jessica's phone, presumably from another press call.

She smirked, a similar one raising on Don's face when she told him, "We got him."

He sighed. "Go be a hero," he said, about to answer another call from Angell's phone.

She fixed her gun and holster, "I seriously owe you."

"Yes, you do," he said, finally picking up the phone.

She sighed as she walked out of the precinct. Her initial plan had been to ignore Don Flack, Jr. Well, the captain decided to give her the desk facing his, so that plan was pretty much blown. The she altered her plan, and was hoping to keep their interaction to a minimum, but she liked having a sound board, and Flack seemed like a good choice, considering his patience with the certain remark she made earlier. Some cops wouldn't have been that understanding of her situation. In short, all of her plans that included staying as far away from Don Flack as possible were shot. She ran a hand through her hair. _Oh, well. I've always preferred winging it, anyway._

**Sorry about the lateness. I've been very busy, and my creative side is suffering. Anyhoodles, please review! I barely get any reviews for my oneshots... for example, Life Sentence? About 200 hits, and two reviews. I won't beg, but I like hearing from you :) It helps.**

**PM me if you have any suggestions!**_  
><em>


End file.
